


Slightest of Sounds

by Mimosa (orphan_account)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/F, Lima Syndrome, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mindfuck, Multi, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 09:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5491994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Mimosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minds are fragile things, and Kylo Ren is not a man of patience or care. When Poe Dameron begins to fall apart, the First Order is watching. And so is Finn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slightest of Sounds

Silence invited it in.

 

Poe couldn’t quite say what it was. But when the sun set and day’s chatter turned to the quiet hum of the base’s machines and those stuck with the night shift, all that left was the cold slither of black in his brain. Thoughts brushed against his mind, but when he reached to catch them, they were gone.

 

Which… was unsettling. But after a decade and change of war, he was the last one to claim full sanity. Especially now, he reflected, that an entire star system was gone. The thoughts were cold, distant, but it was a trained response. Red Five was down. Blue Seven was on fire. The Hosnian System was gone.

 

Thinking about it made the blackness worse. So he focused on three things: BB-8, his squadrons, and checking on a comatose Finn. When the sun rose, the fog receded. People were there. The droning roar of people talking, laughing, working drowned everything else out.

 

“I think Staffin’s improving,” Jess said, a roguish smile at her lips. Bottles of alcohol coated the table. Some were polished off—others contained dregs. Jess cradled a sharp whisky in her hands, her uniform loose on her thin figure.

 

Temmin snorted. “Nowhere to go but up,” the man muttered. He smoothed out a sheet of paper and scrawled down Staffin’s name. “You think we should put him through, Poe?”

 

His beer sat in front of him, largely untouched. It tasted of hops and smelled like piss. But it was a gift from a grateful sanitation crew—a tall blond had gifted him an expensive Q’Dar wine and a shy smile. He wasn’t sure if it was hero worship or lust or both. Either way, Blondie was cemented in his mind, especially with those high sharp cheekbones and generous lips. They made him think of someone—

 

“Poe?” A finger flicked his beer bottle. The ‘ting’ made him start. Jess’s smile had faded. “Command to Poe. Is Staffin in?”

 

He hid his embarrassment by throwing back part of his beer. “Put him on the list,” he said breezily. The alcohol stung on the way down. His shoulders relaxed and he grinned. Pain radiated over his skin, like he was being burned; it spawned from spots on his cheek, and the slight pressure made his hands flutter over the bottle. “…I need to visit Finn. We can test ‘em day after tomorrow.”

 

“If you’re sure,” Jess said. She bit her lip and shared a look with Temmin. “See you at breakfast?”

 

“Sure,” he said, “yeah.” He didn’t realize he left the bottle until he was sitting beside an unconscious Finn. Energy hummed in his veins as he paced beside Finn—the nurses came by every once in a while, but the ward was quiet, silent. Finn’s steady breathing made the energy tolerable. But the silence—the silence gave room to things that crawled underneath his skin.

 

Something was wrong, so deeply wrong that he didn’t know who to talk to. So he sat in the chair and tried to distract himself with a reconnaissance report. The energy rose and fell in waves. But Finn kept breathing, and Poe could too.

 

-

 

“If all your failures will be so costly,” Snoke said, “it might be best to end this now.”

 

Kylo didn’t move from kneeling. “It was a mistake, Supreme Leader. But I will learn as I always have.” Hux sniffed behind him, the sound small and almost inaudible—to untrained ears. Snoke’s gaze wandered over the man, and Kylo could imagine him stiffening. A frightened coward in the end, for all his skill in command. “Han Solo is dead. The Hosnian system is gone. The Republic will fall.”

 

“So easily, will it?” Snoke’s face twisted into something resembling amusement. Anger laced his lips and Kylo forced down the instinct to stiffen. “They have the map to Skywalker. Fortuitous that they also have a Force sensitive. Tell me, Kylo, how is she still alive?”

 

It was the Force punishing him for hesitating to kill Solo. It was the only answer he could offer, and he didn’t wish to speak it in front of Hux. “The map might not contain everything they need.” His gut twisted. Doubt made him angry, but it was not the time to lash out. Not in front of his master. “There is still time for me to fix this. If you’ll give me a chance, Supreme Leader—“

 

“You are to remain here, Kylo. There is training to be finished.” Snoke’s dark eyes glinted. “You slew Solo. For all your failures, this has earned you much.”

 

Phasma would kill Skywalker—or worse, Hux would. The withered old Jedi would fall to a blaster, uncomprehending of his complete failure. His anger soured. “My work is unfinished, Master.” Snoke’s hand was already lifting to dismiss him. “Poe Dameron,” he said, almost desperate.

 

Snoke’s hand stilled. “What of him?”

 

“When I questioned him, I felt it prudent to leave something behind.” He looked into Snoke’s face, careful not to meet the Sith’s eyes. “I will need an opportunity to finish it.”

 

Snoke’s eyes brightened. Silence filled the room, only interrupted by Hux’s low hiss as Snoke smiled. “If only out of curiosity, Kylo. Do not disappoint me.”

**Author's Note:**

> This will be updated every Monday at 9PM Atlantic!


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